


The House in the Countryside

by potatosocks



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, a lil angst, its 1am and im tired, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22574725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatosocks/pseuds/potatosocks
Summary: Al gets called back to a meeting and has to leave Kiku behind
Relationships: America/Japan (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	The House in the Countryside

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for reading this fic i spent too long writing! go easy on me, this is the first fic i've written in a long ass time and the first for this fandom! i'm acutally not fan of hetalia (my gf is and she intro-d it, and specifically ameripan, to me) so if i committed any grievous sin please do not kill me. 
> 
> enjoy!!

Al could barely feel his left arm. It was going all tingly and numb, and he could barely twitch his fingers. How long had it been since his arm was crushed, barely able to move?

He tried not to sigh too loudly, as he rolled away as gently as he could from Kiku’s sleeping body. Trying not to make any noise (the bed was a little squeaky; Kiku never bothered to replace his old furniture), Al lay on his back, staring up at the familiar ceiling. 24 across, 13 down.

The room hadn’t changed much. There was still the same musty smell, the smell of wood and green tea, and Kiku.

It was dark, the curtains drawn to prevent the harsh summer sunlight from streaming in. it had to be midday already, judging from the rays of sunlight peeking through. Sleeping till midday was always the routine when Al was around, at least most of the time.

The quiet revere was broken by the creaking of the bed, as Kiku nuzzled further into Al, both arms firmly intertwined around his own.

Al could barely stop the small smile that crept onto his face. it was rare to see Kiku like this. His face was soft, unlike the lined, battle-hardened expression he normally wore. This was the Kiku the world barely saw, and the Kiku that Al fell for.

The buzzing of his phone broke his train of thought. With his one free arm, (the other was still trapped under Kiku’s sleeping body; but Al wasn’t complaining), he grabbed his phone off the old rickety nightstand.

Squinting at his phone, he could barely decipher the name of the caller. It was John, his handler. Fuck. Al let out a sigh. He had expected a call but not this soon. A part of him just wanted to throw his phone at the wall opposite, fuck these calls, fuck the responsibilities, fuck everything. He just wanted an eternity with his love, lying in bed and pretending to just be Alfred Jones and Kiku Honda.

But three days would suffice.

“John. What is it?” Al kept his voice low, trying not to wake up the still-sleeping man next to him. He tried to keep his voice light, but realised that his grip on the phone had tightened.

A crackling voice replied. “We need you to come in early. There’s going to be another meeting with the Russian ambassador and we need you there. I’ll send the details to you.” A click told Al the call was over. He let his hand drop, sprawled on the bed, his iron grip still on the phone.

Al took a deep breath, breathing in the familiar scent of the room. For the past three days, he had tricked himself into believing he was Just Alfred Jones. There were no phone calls, no meetings, no responsibility to be a nation.

For three days, all he had to care about was grocery shopping and not burning dinner. Whether he had watered the plants, fed Pochi. And every night, he crawled into bed with the love of his life. For three days, he had Alfred Jones’ life.

But reality called and the facade was crumbling.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————------------------------------------

Kiku was awoken by Alfred’s low voice.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want the day to start. He just wanted to be held for just a while longer.

He heard Al sigh, felt the thump as his hand fell on the bed. A phone call.

“What is it Al?” He rolled over, his voice still thick with sleep. He saw Al’s troubled face for a split second, before the blonde rearranged his features into a smile.

“Good morning babe, did I wake you up?” Al grinned, rolling closer to Kiku. His blue eyes sparkled, bright even in the darkness of the room. A thumb brushed Kiku’s cheek, soft and rhythmic.

Kiku didn’t answer, instead pecking Al on the lips softly. Their lips lingered together, before Al pulled him closer. Kiku never got over how soft Al’s lips felt on his, or how his stomach did an olympics-worthy gymnastic routine whenever they kissed. It always felt like the first time, even after years.

After what seemed like eternity, Al pulled away, a hand cupping Kiku’s cheek.

“God, I love you.”

The conviction in Al’s voice made Kiku’s heart melt. He had always admired how easy such declarations tumbled out of Al, like a never-ending waterfall.

“I- I love you too…” Kiku could feel his face turn hot, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had used those words.

But he was glad he did. Al’s grin had grown even wider, his eyes sparkling brighter. This was the Alfred he had fallen for, the wide-eyed, forever enthusiastic Al. The one who had chased him through the years, through wars. The one who’s heart was so full of love and light.

“Keeks…” Al whispered, his voice slightly shaky. Kiku leaned forward, pressing his lips against the blonde’s.

Neither wanted the kiss to end, but Kiku pulled away.

“Who were you talking to just now?”

He felt Al’s hand tighten, his face visibly stiffening. Alfred was never good at hiding his emotions.

“I’ve got to go back. There’s another meeting with the Russians and I have to be there,” Al replied, bitterness seeping through the words. He was getting up now, untangling his limbs from Kiku’s as he sat up on the bed. Kiku stared at his bare back, the bed suddenly feeling much emptier and colder.

Al was pulling on a shirt as Kiku sat up. He wasn’t surprised that Al had gotten a call - no, an order - back. In fact, he was shocked it had taken this long. America was a busy man. Three days away was already a blessing. For so long, their relationship consisted of stolen kisses behind pillars at world meetings and secret letters exchanged under tables. Having Al in his bed - having Al at all - was everything he could have asked for.

“Let me cook you breakfast before you leave,” Kiku got to his feet, the cold floor under him as he made his way to the American. Al paused, his hands subconsciously wrapping around Kiku. He always felt safe in Al’s strong arms.

“I would love that Keeks.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————------------------------------------

“Thanks for breakfast babe, that was so good,” Al wiped his mouth, leaning back on the palm of his hands. Bowls stood empty on the table separating Kiku and Al. Significantly more bowls were closer to the American.

His tie was suffocating. He felt like he was drowning in his suit. No matter how old he was, or how tailored the suit was, he never felt like he really fit in it. He wanted his bomber jacket back.

Kiku cleared his throat, a blush creeping on his face. “Would you mind if…” he trailed off, before continuing, “if you left your jacket here?” By the end of the sentence, his usually pale skin was flushed. Al grinned.

“So you can cuddle it in bed and pretend it’s me?” He teased the blushing Asian, as he opened his bag to fish out the crumpled jacket. With the jacket found and in his hand, he got up, placing the jacket around Kiku’s shoulders.

Al had always loved how Kiku looked in his jackets. He bent down to peck Kiku on the cheek. The Asian squirmed, still blushing, but didn’t pull away.

“I’ve got to go, love,” Al grabbed his bag, slinging it around his shoulder. “Walk me out?” He reached out his hand towards Kiku.

Hand in hand, they walked out of the small house they called home for 3 days. Kiku’s iron-like grip was strangling Al’s hand, but he didn’t pull away. He knew Kiku didn’t want him to leave either.

They stood at the gate, lingering. After a moment, Al pulled Kiku closer, their lips touching for the last time till god knows when. It was slow kiss, full of goodbyes and i love you’s. Full of the promise of staying true to each other. Full of the hope and anticipation of their next meeting.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————------------------------------------

The meeting was boring. It took all of Al’s concentration to keep upright, to look professional. Opposite him, Ivan had completely given up. The white-haired man made no secret of his boredom, a hand supporting his head, the other drumming the table to an imaginary tune.

God how he wished he was back in that little house in the Japanese countryside. Whenever things got rough, or even when it was simply boring as it normally was in these kind of meetings, Al retreated there. His safe haven. Back in that little house that forever smelt of firewood and rice and home and Kiku. He wanted to feel those cold tiles under his bare feet again as he twirled Kiku around, without a care in the world. He wanted to feel the warmth on his face as they sat in front of the fireplace, warm cups of tea in their hands, their legs tangled under blankets.

“Jones,” a whisper from his handler shook him out of his reverie, out of the little house in the countryside.

Al’s breath caught in his throat.

Kiku Honda walked in, trailing behind his ambassador. The gold buttons on his white uniform gleamed in the sunlight as he walked towards the table. Stopping opposite the American delegation, he bowed to them, greeting them in turn.

“America.” His voice betrayed nothing, his eyes cold with nothing behind them.

And for a moment, Al was back in bed, staring into brown eyes, soft and full of love, the morning sun hitting them at just the right angle. He could feel a warm hand on his cheek, the tinkling sound of Kiku’s laughter.

He pushed those thoughts away.

“Japan.”


End file.
